


The Wall

by Xobit



Category: Transformers: Prime
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-27
Updated: 2012-10-27
Packaged: 2017-11-17 03:51:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/547323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xobit/pseuds/Xobit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stuck in a wall? He could NOT believe it...</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Wall

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Akzeal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Akzeal/gifts).



Knock Out loathed this… no actually he plain hated it, as much as he hated being plain even in word choice. Hated… 

Hated Megatron, but then who did not? Well aside maybe from Soundwave and Dreadwing, aft kissers the both of them. And he? He had served the warlord well, for vorns! He had lost mechs left and right, tortured, maimed and killed in his name. But here? Now? He was a failure all of a sudden, as if anyone else, including Soundwave and Dreadwing had done much better!

He had lost Breakdown, the best assistant he had ever fragging had! The best most proficient wielder of a polishing device ever to be Created! And a lover he had spent orn training to his specific likes in berth… no scratching, no dents, no ordering. Complacently letting himself be chained up and used, Unicron’s horns! Breakdown had gotten off on it…

Best… assistant… ever!

And he had not even been allowed revenge, not on the real culprit… his small taste of it on the puny organic infection had been, well, less than satisfactory. 

But all that aside. He was stuck in a _wall_. 

In… 

A…

Wall!

He had no count of the Vehicons and Eradicons who had walked by barely holding their little snickers in. He wanted to kill all of them but that would really land him in trouble. However… when he got free. Oh yes! When he got free he would make sure that any Vehicons and Eradicons that set a ped in the med bay would suffer for the misdeeds of their kind! 

What was that?

The bridge was mostly dark now, only a few mechs on duty as the height of the recharge cycle neared. By now he was old news and most did not so much as glance at him. Not even the Insect~

He had to bite his own glossa to prevent an ‘eep’ from escaping him. _That_ was a touch… by something wet. He swallowed and tasted energon. 

There! Again… oh Primus, what was touching him? What was it?! Who was it… Knock Out could feel panic boil up but he could not make himself ask for help, even though the slick thing moved over his aft. 

If it had not been as long and big as it felt he would have labeled it a glossa instantly but he knew of no mech on this ship with such a long glossa. None he had repaired at least, the red mech cast a wild glance at the doors and the two huge Insecticons guarding it. 

No… 

Just no! 

No, no, no, no, no, no… 

But the thing kept working his plating, his aft… seams, panel. Agile, hot and sticky wet. Most of his vents were blocked, entirely or partially and he was beginning to burn. He tried to discreetly pant though the intake in his mouth but it was an impossible task for one tiny secondary intake to cool down a chassis readying to reach for overload. 

He was shaking… horrified he looked at his hand, how his fingers twitched. His claws, shaking twitching for no reason. He did not turn to look at the other. 

And then… claws… he was sure it was claws, large claws. They teased, searched and eventually found. Opened… and that impossible glossa was inside him. 

This time the taste of energon was sharp and bitter. And he did not entirely manage to muffle the noise, the moan. Oh Primus, it felt better than some spikes. Certainly better than most glossas… and it should not feel this good. He was the one tying his partners down! He was the one… he… 

It became harder to think, harder to bite at his glossa and dermas to prevent noises from giving him away. He looked up and found that both Insecticons were staring right at him. He could not read their optics… Still, he knew they knew. 

Was it one of them? It had to be… it had to be!

The claw clinched it. No Vehicon… no Eradicon… Pit! Not even Megatron had claws like that. And the guards were grinning at him, or whatever Insecticons did to show amusement. He offlined his vocalizer, remembering suddenly, that he could do that. 

How much it helped, he was not sure. His few uncovered vents battled in a losing war, getting nearer to the point where they would whine with overwork. And he could not, dared not stop them even as a second claw slid into him. 

Lubricant… he could feel it, he was soaking wet. Wetter than Breakdown had ever made him, wetter than he could ever remember being. He could not, _would not_!, get off on this! But his chassis hardly listened to the muted voice of his will when those sinful claws scissored apart inside him. 

Knock Out knew what that meant, his chassis rejoiced and his mind screamed and trashed. Why prepare him at all? They were stupid brutes, he had never hidden his dislike for them. Either one of those reasons would be enough for most to just rape him… 

Of course this was still rape, but as he panted and shook, hands grasping ineffectually at nothing he realized with some horror it was a rape he would enjoy. His recharge memory purges of this might well have him wake to an open panel and a puddle on the berth.

His panicky thoughts screeched to a halt when a third claw briefly entered him, his assailant testing the give of his valve before drawing the digits out entirely. Everything seemed frozen, ground to a halt and he looked about with panic in his optics. 

It was still only the Insecticons who were watching him. 

The tip was… less blunt than any spike he had ever had, but the tip easily flared into something broader than Breakdown’s spike and it had… it had bumps. Or ridges. And too big! Too big… too _good_ , oh, Primus!

When he finally felt plating against his aft his optics were glazed, he was not feeling any pain aside from that of denied overload. If the penetration had just been a little faster… just a little harder. He would have exploded, melted, been reduced to bits and pieces.

Condensation formed and dripped from his armor, but all he cared about was the burning, slow glide of that damnable spike. 

Out.

In. 

Out…

The mech taking him, the _beast_ taking him knew what it was doing. Every time he was just there, _just_ on the edge it paused. He knew what an Insecticon was capable of, knew the power in those hips… _wanted_ that power. Craved it with a desperation he never knew he had in him. 

In…

They were watching, their optics too bright. His assailant, did he look like them? Were his optics just as bright, riveted to what he could see of his plating? Knock Out wished he did not have time to think, but he was given time and what little squirming he could do gave him nothing.

Did his mandibles move like that, as if he was somehow scenting the air? As if the scent was heady and wanted? 

Suddenly the torture ended, the pace went from slow to brutal. Knock Out did not even manage to think that he was happy for his vocalizer being offline.

* * *

His optics flickered online to see a group of ped tips and hear a murmur that had a decidedly concerned tone to it. 

“S-sir?” The voice was weak, uncertain as if the one calling had tried to do so many times. 

“Touch him,” another mutter, fearful.

“You touch him!” 

“We can’t do nothing, Lord Megatron will kill us if he dies,” the pedes shifted, one pair shuffling forward.

“S-s...ah!” he lifted his helmet and the Vehicon jumped back with a fearful cry. His comrades caught him before he could fall. 

“Wh~,” Knock Out had to reset his vocalizer, “what happened?” 

“Uh… w-well, sir, we don’t really know,” the uncertainty was not faked. He tried shifting and immediately knew what had happened. His valve was full of transfluid, but his panel was closed… his plating clean. 

He knew the feeling of clean plating. 

“I’m fine!” he snapped, wanting them gone so he could think, “it was emergency stasis, my chassis is not used to being held still like this,” they shuffled off, casting looks back at him. He no longer thought they were laughing. 

But someone was. 

Maybe the whole hive. 

And he could not, dared not cry for retribution. 

But the worst part? He had been right, it would plague him. Not for the rape, but for the fact that someone had knocked him out with an overload. And that someone was a beast mech… a simple brutish Insecticon…

**Author's Note:**

> A birthday gift for the DeviantArt artist & author AKzeal


End file.
